


Shaken

by Propriety_is_not_a_priority



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (as much as it can be with hannibal lecter in it), Fluff, M/M, coda s01e08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Propriety_is_not_a_priority/pseuds/Propriety_is_not_a_priority
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A coda to 'Fromage´.<br/>To Will, Hannibal has never seemed more vulnerable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shaken

**Author's Note:**

> What happened was, I fell in love with the episode, and the scruffy looking, beaten-up Hannibal. He looked so open and vulnerable, and even though we know it's a lie, just imagine how Will must be feeling. And then I made it slightly AU. Slightly. 
> 
> Beta'ed by the lovely DeadPrince.

The call to Jack took Will all of 2 minutes to make, and with-in 10 minutes of the shooting every cop in the area was looking for Tobias Budge. It wasn’t until Jack's personal phone got a call from Hannibal that they found him though.

When the two of them get there, police cars are already everywhere, their red and blue light blinding and confusing. Will feels numb with worry, with anticipation. Not to see the scene, surprisingly, but to see Hannibal. He’s alive. That’s all Jack would promise. He hadn’t bothered- no he hadn’t _had time_ to ask about Hannibal’s condition. To Jack it is always about priorities, and his priority is always the murderer.

To Will, Hannibal is infinitely more important than yet another insane serial killer. He gets those in spades. He has only ever gotten one Hannibal.

The house looks deceptively normal, except for the footprints and litter left behind by the police. Will can’t help the clench of his teeth – Hannibal’s house is always meticulously ordered, clean and sophisticated. A mirror of the man himself. The casual disregard Jack´s people are showing feels like blasphemy.

His annoyance disappears when he reaches the scene. It’s the office – Library? Therapy-room? – and everything here is chaos. There’s blood, glass and furniture that has been turned-over. A couple of police officers are gathering the body-bags. Will takes it all in with detached dismay, as his eyes automatically scan the room for the most important thing there.

He steps around the mess as well as he can. Hannibal is sitting at his desk, an alarming red first-aid bag next to him. It seems out of place on the dark wood. Will studies him, silently. There’s blood on his face, trailing from a broken lip and surrounding his nostril. There’s a small cut on the bridge of it, and one of his eyes is slightly swollen, hinting at a bruise. His hair is out of place, and his suit is wrinkled, and his eyes… His eyes are rimmed with red and look more vulnerable than Will has ever seen before.

“I was worried you were dead.”

Hannibal’s voice is soft, and a bit rough. He swallows visibly, and Will can see his hand clench a bit tighter on his thigh. He can’t help the reassuring smile that twitches unto his face. There’s shameful joy fighting to take over. Hannibal had thought of him, had worried about him. Even in this.

Jack is present, before Will can figure out anything to say to that. Maybe he doesn’t need to say anything at all.

The interrogation is necessary, and Will fights to stay focused. But there’s a looming guilt in the back of his head and a need to comfort Hannibal. His… friend? Hannibal is clearly shaken, his voice is unsteady, his breathing is rough, and Will feels a pang of regret for the small amount of innocence Hannibal must have had left, as the story of the crime scene unfolds. Jack, ever his impatient self, is soon moving on.

Will lingers. Perched on the edge of the desk, he feels the need to articulate something of the mess of emotions in his head.

“I feel like I have… dragged you into my world.”

Hannibal doesn’t look him in the eye, instead surveying the ground, his hand still absently on the stab wound Will has noticed on his leg.

“I got here on my own.”

He looks up, straight at Will, catching him off-guard.

“But – I appreciate the company.”

There’s a naked look in his eyes, something unguarded and new. A small shaky smile is twisting the bloody corner of his mouth, and Will isn’t quite sure how it happens, but the next second his lips are tracing the curve.

The kiss is soft. Barely there. Will can feel the wetness of Hannibal’s blood coat his lips, and he can feel the air rushing by as the man inhales though his nose, and then he can feel the tentative movement of Hannibal’s lips against his own. Will cups his neck with a hand, fingers tangling in the ruffled hair there.

It doesn’t last more than a few seconds, and then Will is drawing back. Hannibal draws a shuttering breath as he stares at Will’s lips. His gaze drops to the floor, and Will fears for a second that the man is crying, but then he looks up, and there is such pure elation in his eyes, that Will feels almost afraid for a second.

“ _Thank you_ , Will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> The thing is, Hannibal isn't trying not to cry, he's trying not to devour you whole, Will sweetheart. You have his blood all over your delectable lips. Testing his self-control.


End file.
